


Wings

by ros3bud009



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Menstrual Sex, Menstruation, no sex on screen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-28
Updated: 2020-07-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:07:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25575544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ros3bud009/pseuds/ros3bud009
Summary: Spinster glanced around the table before asking, “Wait, none of you know about minibot heats?”There was silence for a long moment.-----------------------OrMisfire has his "Are you there Spinster? It's me, Misfire" moment about how Swerve literally bleeds charge
Relationships: Misfire/Swerve (Transformers)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 87





	Wings

**Author's Note:**

  * For [harperuth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/harperuth/gifts).



> I 100% blame Harperuth for this for putting a) minibots having period-like heats and b) SwerveMisfire menstrual sex in my head
> 
> No on screen sex though. Just talking about/implications/aftermath of it
> 
> Honestly this is mostly scavengers shenanigans lmao

Misfire whistled as he strutted back into the bar. And as he went over to the bar. And as he took a tray of drinks from Bluestreak and strutted his way over to their table. And as he set the tray down on said table.

He only stopped whistling to say, “Drink up boys, because drinks are on me tonight!”

Spinster, Grimlock, and Nickel readily reached out to grab their drinks, the former missing the suspiciousness of the scene and the latter two appearing to be more than happy to take advantage of the strange turn of events.

Crankcase… well, he stared, though it was difficult to parse what it meant.

Krok at least had the decency to cross his arms over his chest as he warily eyed the drinks and then Misfire in turn and asked the question that Fulcrum had been working himself up to.

“Dare I ask what’s got you so chipper?”

Misfire’s whole frame heaved with a dramatic ex-vent of relief as he said, “Thank Primus. I’ve been dying to tell somebody.”

“You literally just got back,” Fulcrum pointed out. 

Misfire didn’t pay the comment much mind though as he hip-checked Fulcrum across the booth seat and into Krok to make room as he sat his aft down.

“Thanks for keeping my seat warm. And speaking of,” Misfire started with a flourish of his servo before leaning in, as if to whisper a secret, “guess why Swerve isn’t here tonight. Go on. Guess.”

“I thought you couldn’t wait to tell us,” Grimlock rumbled with amusement as he dangled his empty cube between his digits, clearly amused.

“How would we know anyway? He’s your conjunx,” Nickel drawled.

“How did you drink that so fast? I didn’t even see you drink it. How do you even drink anyway?” Crankcase asked Grimlock.

“Please just get this over with and tell us already,” Krok insisted.

Misfire’s grin was nearly as wide as the span of his wings that vibrated against the seat back and Fulcrum’s shoulder with excitement.

“He’s _going into heat_.”

“Ahh, that explains all of this,” Grimlock said as he gestured at Misfire. There was general consensus around the table and some congratulatory remarks since they all knew why Misfire of all mechs would be especially pleased by the news.

Except for Spinster who sounded apologetic as he said, “I wish you’d told me sooner so I could have made some pain patches. I can still check with Ratchet, see if he has any on hand.”

Misfire whipped his helm around, optics bright as he asked, “So you know how minibot heats work? Frag yeah! Who’s gonna be wanting them afterwards? Him or me? I’d be happy either way, but you know I love getting my valve--”

“Misfire!” Krok reprimanded.

“Afterwards?” Spinster asked, confused. “Why would he want them afterwards?”

Misfire’s optics nearly glittered.

“So minis have valve heats! Frag me running, I’m gonna spike him so good and long--”

“ _Misfire_!”

The tilt of Spinster’s helm only grew deeper though, belying greater confusion.

“I didn’t say that.”

Misfire’s wings stilled for a confused moment.

“Okaaay. So spike heat?”

Spinster glanced around the table before asking, “Wait, none of you know about minibot heats?”

There was silence for a long moment.

“Do you guys not have normal heats?” Misfire asked Nickel who, up till then, had been happily sipping at her drink and reading something on her datapad.

She didn’t even look up as she answered, “Don’t look at me. I’m from Prion.”

“What?”

With a belabored ex-vent, Nickel finally looked up. “Prions don’t have arrays. We burn charge by cable-fragging like civilized mechs.”

“Oh.” Then, without missing a beat, “Then how do you and Roller frag?”

Nickel grinned a secretive and, frankly, vaguely terrifying grin as she retorted, “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“Honestly, yes,” Misfire said before turning back to Spinster. “But I don’t have time for being weirdly turned on right now, because right now what I need is to know what, exactly, is happening to my conjunx.”

Spinster blinked.

“He’s having a heat.”

“Yes, we got that,” Fulcrum interrupted, placing a comforting servo on Misfire’s forearm as the flier started to vibrate again, but this time with far less joy. “But what is a minibot heat like? Why wouldn’t they just release the built-up charge like the rest of us?”

“Oh!” Spinster’s helm finally snapped upright. “Because they have less space to fit all the parts necessary to function in their smaller frames and thus lack a couple that are convenient but unnecessary for functioning, including a charge coil. While their frames still have the same inherent energy efficiency issues that larger frames do, instead of wasting space with a charge coil to collect the excess charge until it needs to be bled off, they utilize a part they already possess.”

“And that part would be?” Fulcrum pressed as Misfire leaned against him, looking a little cross-eyed in his confusion.

“Their valves.”

There was a moment of silence at the table.

“Sooo… a valve heat?”

“Not in the traditional sense. For most Cybertronians, some part of their array has a connection to the charge coil so that when it reaches capacity, the excess charge can be safely released with overload. When it’s collected in the valve though, the excess charge is held within the energon within the mesh lining. Once it has reached capacity, the charge-rich energon passes through the membrane of the mesh lining to be shed.”

Somehow, the silence that followed was even more silent than before.

And yet, Spinster didn’t seem to mind or notice.

“It’s a rather unpleasant experience from what I understand and it takes on average about 3 days, though I would suggest asking Swerve since he likely knows his own frame and how long his heats usually take. After that he should be back to normal.”

The silence was starting to grate on Fulcrum, but he couldn’t even begin to think of what to say. 

“Any other questions?”

What does one even say when they find out their friend _literally bleeds charge_ during his heat?

“Sooo,” Misfire drawled again, helm tipped to one side, “fragging _won’t_ help?”

Spinster’s optics narrowed and he thought a moment before replying, “It won’t facilitate more charge being released like in a larger Cybertronian’s heat, no. But I suppose in a more general way, overloads can help with dampening pain receptors and staying warm keeps the valve lining relaxed and makes it easier and less painful for the energon to pass through it. However, I think it will be difficult for you to convince Swerve to interface while he’s in heat, since he’s likely to be irritable and feeling far from aroused.”

And, somehow, after all that, Misfire perked up.

“I’ve faced worse odds,” he stated casually as he pushed away from Fulcrum’s side to get to his pedes. “Anything not fragging related I should do to help or…?”

“Ratchet just got back to me and says he’s got a couple patches. I can ask him to gather up some spare pillows and a heater too if you wanted to pick them all up on your way to your quarters.”

“That would be perfect. Thanks, Spins!” With a jaunty half-salute, Misfire added, “I’ll see you losers later. I’ve got a bleeding conjunx to check back in with.”

And then he was off.

And he was whistling again, the absolute mad mech.

Finally, Grimlock broke the silence.

“How _do_ you frag Roller?”

And with that, Fulcrum downed his drink and decided to call it a night.

* * *

After knocking for the third time, Fulcrum was ready to give up. It was Misfire’s own damn fault if Megatron or, Primus forbid, Minimus gave him a lecture about missing his shifts. As it was, he would already be getting one about tardiness anyway. Poor idiot.

All thoughts of lecture were long gone though when the door finally slid open and Misfire was stood there with energon smeared all across his face.

“Oh, ‘morning Fulcrum. What’s up?”

Fulcrum had to lift his jaw up from where it had fallen to manage, “Misfire, what the frag?!”

“What?”

“Your face!”

Misfire lifted a servo, his digits touching his chin and coming away wet.

“Oh, this? It’s fine,” Misfire reassured, though it might have been more comforting if his smile wasn’t so sly looking and framed by sticky energon. “It’s not mine.”

Fulcrum rebooted his audio receptors before saying, “What?”

“It’s Swerve’s, moron.”

Fulcrum blinked.

And then blinked again.

If Swerve were injured, Misfire would be much more worried, right? And if Swerve is bleeding, then that means he’s injured. Mechs don’t just bleed—

Fulcrum blinked a third time.

Misfire’s face wasn’t completely covered in energon. Rather, it was just the lower half of his face.

Oh.

_Oh._

“Oh,” Fulcrum ex-vented.

“So did you need something?”

“You know what? Nope. Nothing. I’ve got it covered. Don’t worry about it,” Fulcrum babbled, already resigning himself to taking over Misfire’s shift. Anything to be able to stop looking at Misfire proudly wearing Swerve’s energon on his face and knowing full well how it got there.

“Cool. While you’re here, can you have someone bring some gelled candies? I’d go but he’s clingy right now, and if I don’t get back there soon, there’s gonna be hell to pay, y’know?”

“I don’t, actually.” Fulcrum’s optics unfortunately pinpointed a droplet of energon collecting on the tip of Misfire’s nose and couldn’t look away. “But I’ll comm Krok.”

“You’re a lifesaver.”

  
And finally, mercifully, Misfire closed the door.

And suddenly, a lecture about tardiness didn’t seem so bad after all.


End file.
